


No Easy Way

by bionic



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:58:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bionic/pseuds/bionic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cerberus agent Cole Bishop is captured by a man from his past amidst the looming Reaper invasion, and forges an unlikely friendship out of necessity, but will that be enough to get them through the war?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, posted here to get me motivated to work on it. Any encouragement, suggestions are more than welcome. Original characters based off ME3 multiplayer characters the Ex-Cerberus Phoenix Vanguard and the N7 Slayer.

It happened like many things often did in Cole’s life – unexpected and almost like fate, if he believed in that sort of thing. 

_(It was how he and Alex met, and it would forever be the defining moment, the remarkable day, where Cole’s life took a drastic turn.)_

Survival instincts had him moving out of the mess hall as soon as the claxons sounded, his hot lunch forgotten. He knew one day those experiments the facility were conducting _on their own people_ would come around to bite them in the ass. Working with Reaper tech…well, disaster was inevitable. 

Many of his comrades had defected at the first hint of Reaper influence within the organization, scattered to the far corners of the galaxy, but Cole had nowhere else to go. As long as he was not one of the experiments and he was still fully in control of his mind, he could stick it out. It was an easy gig, watching over the scientists in their isolated corner of deep space, and it paid well. It was better than his mercenary days. 

After all, only Cerberus saw his potential and trained him, made him better and stronger. All they asked in return was loyalty and the occasional blood shedding. They would _like_ blind faith, for you to believe the research they were conducting would better mankind, but they didn’t expect it from everyone. That was why there were conversion chambers on level 3, a place Cole avoided at all costs by being a good little soldier. 

In training, they’d forced the notion of _for the greater good of humanity_ down their throats, but Cole was not a bright-eyed recruit anymore. He’d never really been one to begin with, having joined Cerberus’s ranks at the ripe age of twenty-four. He was a mercenary for hire before that, and a street vagrant before he learned how to hold a gun and shoot. A loud, headstrong freak that none of the other kids would talk to because sometimes his blue eyes glowed and he’d shoot electricity out of his fingertips. Or at least that’s what the kids in Cole’s secondary school would whisper behind his back. He left home when he was just twelve years old, looking for some place else to fit in. He found the slums on Omega and called that home for a while. 

Maybe if he had met nicer folk instead of the unsavory bunch he did, he could have joined the Alliance navy. But Cole didn’t like living with regrets so he never looked back.

Now, it seemed life was throwing another obstacle in his way. 

He turned a sharp corner running towards the rear hangar bay, loudspeakers calling for _all personnel, immediate evacuation_ , and nearly collided face first into armor plating, knocking an Alliance marine back into his equally deadly looking squad. 

Thankfully, he was not currently outfitted in armor patrolling the halls. Instead he was in civilian attire, albeit Cerberus civilian attire, but he was not armed, so his chances of leaving alive were still good.

The three assault rifles previously pointed at his head were lowered. Cole did not realize he’d been holding his breath quite so thoroughly until it left his lungs in a rush.

The marine cocked his helmeted head –N7 emblazoned like a medal on his charred breastplate – and for a split second Cole considered unleashing a devastating biotic smash. It was the lizard brain talking, fight or flight instinct kicking in. He stood his ground and curled his hands into fists, mouth set. The quiet, barely there whisper of his biotic amp was a warm and reassuring presence at the back of his neck.

“Please,” Cole said in the most sincere voice he could muster. “I’m just trying to evacuate like everyone else. I’m not armed.”

The marine silently regarded him behind the dark visor of his helmet. Cole stood resolutely waiting for judgment, blue heat buzzing just underneath his skin. 

Cole could hear his heart beating in his ears, the moment stretching on forever, until finally the marine signaled his squad to continue moving down the hall, but the N7 stayed put, stoically silent in front of him and blocking the nearest hope for escape.

“You’re a scientist?” The helmet distorted his voice, but the calmness of it came through, detached yet soft, like he was thinking it over, trying to solve a puzzle. The static of the voice transmitter gave his consonants a sharp rasp.

When Cole didn’t answer, considering the possible outcomes of his response, the marine took a step to tower over him. Cole had to tilt his head back to look at where he thought his eyes were – without his armor, he felt suddenly vulnerable. The hair on his arms prickled.

The marine considered him again. “Or a soldier?”

Cole’s blunt nails bit into his palms. “I don’t work for anyone now, the facility is lost. Just trying to leave this rock.”

“Sure you are.” The marine seemed to relax his shoulders, straightening up as if on the verge of letting him pass by. “Of course, we’ll have to take you in.”

“I’m willing to cooperate if it means safe passage off this base. And no prisoner torture chambers.”

“That’s not how the Alliance works.” He couldn’t tell if the N7 was just humoring him. 

Maybe the guy wasn’t just here to break up another Cerberus base for the Alliance. They were off the beaten path, hidden by a cluster of ancient moons. Their pocket of space was quiet save for the occasional Cerberus supply ship or visiting scientist. Things had ramped up with the Reaper invasion chatter heard all over the comms, but no visible difference in personnel or troop presence. In fact, more troops had been sent out and never replaced, leaving the facility vulnerable to attack. If the Alliance were here, it had to be for a specific something or someone.

He could use that to his advantage. Trading favors for favors.

“Torture is more Cerberus’s style.” The N7 remarked as he activated his omnitool and proceeded to scan him. “If you can find a hard suit, you can come with me.”

As if he had a choice. Cole could take him, but without his armor one stray bullet would put him down for good. Cole was confident in his barrier but snapping one up faster than the N7 could fire was risky. 

Alliance troops were laying siege to the base. There were insane test subjects running rampant in the labs. The last of the shuttles was most likely being taken, as most of the facility personnel should have evacuated by now. If they hadn’t, then they were either detained or dead. The occasional burst of gunfire meant the Alliance met little resistance.

Whoever was left when the Illusive Man sent his clean up crew would not be spared punishment.

His chances of escape were looking grim. He was not about to pass up safe passage, even if it would be in the cargo hold confined to a holding cell.

Cole nodded. “My things are back that way,” he explained, eyes wide, laying on as much gratitude and innocence as he could. 

The marine pointed his pistol at Cole’s chest. “Move, slowly.”

Cole turned around and proceeded towards his quarters. He thought of escape, how easy it would be, a lash so quick he’d be down before he knew what hit him. But something stopped him, something other than survival.

It was Cole’s morbid curiosity, and the calm, even cadence of the man’s voice. The N7 on his chest. The fact that he didn’t shoot first and ask questions later.

He wanted to see behind the helmet. He would play along, for now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be taking some liberties with the technical stuff and technology and probably the timeline of events as well, as I'm not 100% familiar with the ME universe. I've played all 3 games and DLC's (except Omega) but my memory, it is terrible at best. If all else fails, just think - Space Magic!

Ceramic military grade plating was tricky to put on for the uninitiated. Cole could gear up in his sleep. There was no need for pretense here, as Cole pulled on his greaves with ease, since his quarters gave him away. The walls were bare per protocol, his bed made and sheets immaculately folded, and his weapons locker was a pretty good clue about what role Cole played within the organization. 

The N7 watched as Cole snapped his chest-plate into place and secured the final latches. He gave no indication of surprise at the room or at Cole. 

Then, in a move Cole was not expecting so soon, the marine undid the locks on his helmet, removing it to reveal scruffy brown hair, a few strands matted to his temples with sweat. He reached inside the collar of his chest-plate and tugged out a thick opaque cord looped around his neck. This he held in front of him, and locked eyes with Cole. “It goes around your wrists, if you’d be so kind.”

Cole shrugged, still trying to drink in all the little details one could find in a face, and held out his hands. The marine set his helmet down on Cole’s pristine desk and stripped Cole’s gloves off, tossing them near his helmet. Then he wound the cord in a figure eight around both of Cole’s wrists. The marine’s eyes were a pale brown, like clear chips of honey each time he flicked his gaze up to glance at him. The scar just under his bottom lip, right in the middle, looked like something a phantom might inflict with the point of her sword. Cole wondered how anyone could let one get that close and still be alive.

Wrists loosely bound, he was just about to remark how useless the restraints were when in an instant the cord warmed, flexed, and tightened around his skin, like it was molding itself to him. The N7 had activated some sequence on his omnitool and now there was no way Cole was getting loose. He tapped the communicator in his ear and relayed a soft “Secured,” before returning his attention to Cole, who was waiting patiently, trying not to give in to the urge to smash his room to pieces and run the other way. 

Cole watched in fascination as the marine retrieved the gloves and pulled them back onto Cole’s hands – shoulders rigid, strictly impersonal, except for how deft and considerate he was being with Cole’s hands, even pulling out the fingertips of the mesh material until the gloves fit comfortably around each digit. 

“Cole Bishop, you are now surrendered to the Alliance military, as a war accessory and individual contributor.”

Cole was not often taken by surprise – he always had a plan, contingency after contingency. Thinking on his feet was what kept him alive all these years. He did not expect the Alliance military to know who he was, much less have his files. 

It would explain the interest the N7 had taken in ensuring he would get out alive, the detour to retrieve his armor. How careful he was with him. 

“How do you know – ”

“I recognized you,” 

Cole did not recognize him. There were not many individuals Cole would call friends, or even enemies. 

“Your bio-amp,” the marine continued when Cole remained stunned, “the burn scar – ” he reached for Cole’s neck, Cole flinched out of the way. His hand fell just short of touching, lip twitching with amusement. “When my sister shot you in the back.”

That’s when Cole knew, when it clicked – who this N7 Special Forces operative was, why those eyes were so familiar, so remarkable. He shared the same eyes as someone from Cole’s past, a woman with no qualms about taking back what was rightfully hers, something Cole had learned the hard way. 

Nicolette “Nix” Sainte had shot him after he tried to leave with her prisoner. They had been mercenaries for rival gangs and Cole made the mistake of thinking she was a nice girl, and had turned his back. She had an incendiary round loaded in her chamber, and all she needed was one at point blank range, burning through his cheap, scrounged up armor scraps and melting the collar of his armor weave right into his biotic amp. He remembered incredible pain before he remembered nothing else. That was how Cerberus found him, another John Doe in the neighborhood hospital, and that was how he was recruited.

“You’re Nicolette’s brother?” 

“I was also your bounty,” the N7 grabbed his helmet off the desk, “She saved my life that day. You almost ended it.”

“What do you want with me?” It couldn’t be revenge, not after all these years, after his bounty had gone off to fight the good fight.

The marine rolled his shoulders before lifting his helmet over his head, one last glance of sharp amber sweeping over Cole, to be covered up again, a stranger.

“The Alliance needs all the help they can get. Relax, you’re nothing special.”

Cole had a feeling it wasn’t so simple. He had many questions, but now was not the time. They had lingered long enough.

The N7 found Cole’s helmet and thrust it at him. He grabbed ineffectually at it with his wrists locked together, cradling it against his chest. He was in full Cerberus colors now and wondered if this wasn’t all an elaborate plan to get him shot, feeding him false hope until an over eager Alliance soldier turned a corner with an itchy trigger finger.

Leery, Cole tried to call up a thin barrier, but to his surprise, he couldn’t feel the normal energy that would spike in his spine, or anywhere else, for that matter. The constant presence of his biotic abilities had been suddenly…muted.

As if reading his mind, the marine tapped Cole’s wrist with the barrel of his pistol, “Those restraints are specially made for biotics.” 

So Cole did the only thing he could do, and started walking. Things were beginning to look worse. Had he made the wrong decision, been too naïve? 

What did they want with him? 

Down the halls, there were a few bodies, but no one that Cole knew. Mostly, they were patients, probably too crazy to be reasoned with. Guilt wasn’t something he felt often, having nothing to feel too guilty for, but seeing a thin, frail body on the floor with a serene smile on its face… maybe there were worse fates than death. 

They met the rest of the marine’s squad at the docking bay which was empty save for an Alliance shuttle. They were waiting for them in the shuttle, and Cole’s skin crawled. He was about to board an Alliance vessel for the first time in his life, unarmed.

“Alex,” one of the men said in greeting, nodding at his captor. “Last ones out.”

Cole closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the brief ride to the ship. He had to conserve energy now. He clenched his hands into fists, testing the restraints. Nothing. 

At least now he had a name. 

_Alex Sainte._


End file.
